


A Moment in Your Eyes

by LacePendragon



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Clone Wars era, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Shmi Skywalker Lives, Softer Obi-Wan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:27:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23421685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LacePendragon/pseuds/LacePendragon
Summary: Anakin is in love with Obi-Wan. It takes him some time to figure it out, but he is. This is fine. He knows they can’t be together, and he can handle it. He has what he needs. But maybe he can get what he wants, too.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 61
Kudos: 532





	A Moment in Your Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> So uh. Hi. First shipping fic in this fandom. Minorly (majorly) terrified to post it. Hope I did all right. A lot of my characterization is based on a combination of the back half of the Attack of the Clones movie, the Revenge of the Sith novelization by Matthew Stover, and the first 2 1/2 seasons of The Clone Wars -- the last because that's roughly when this takes place.
> 
> Star Wars, specifically the prequel era and Anakin (and by extension, The Clone Wars tv series) are very close to my heart, and I love this ship a lot. I hope to write more of it in the future.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy it.
> 
> Also for what it's worth, I fucking LOVE Mace Windu. I just also love to make him the main antagonist of the Jedi Council, because exasperated Mace Windu is a fun time, as season six and Jar Jar proved to us.

There was not one moment in which Anakin could pinpoint exactly when he fell in love with Obi-Wan Kenobi. Rather, there were many, small interactions.

The way he furrowed his brow as he read his datapad, blowing bangs he refused to have trimmed out of his face. The way he wrinkled his nose and tapped the stylus to his lower lip. The way he grimaced if he did this with someone else’s stylus, the look in his eyes clear that he had remembered he didn’t know where this stylus had been.

Or the way he worked with Anakin’s strange methods of meditation. How Anakin needed to move, often through slowed combat forms, to clear his mind and release negative emotions. How Anakin would often rage or sulk before he could express his emotions. The thought heated Anakin’s cheeks. He tried, oh how he tried, but he couldn’t stay calm when powerful emotions swept through him.

He needed to ride them out before he found calmer shores again. Obi-Wan understood that when no one else did.

There were so many times in which Anakin could look back and say “there, and there, and also there”.

Like when he was nineteen, and the nightmares of his mother dying had taken him by surprise. He remembered clawing, screaming, to wakefulness. Obi-Wan had rushed into the room and held Anakin until he calmed enough to explain what he saw. Those nightmares were so strong, so terrified, that Obi-Wan had believed Anakin when he said he thought they were warning him.

They’d been in a ship and heading for Tatooine within the hour. They saved Anakin’s mom. They’d terrified the Sand People, driven them back, and made sure they knew that if they ever attacked Shmi Skywalker again, they would regret it. They got her protection, they made sure she didn’t go anywhere alone, and they stayed for a few days, to ensure she was safe.

Obi-Wan let Anakin fret. Obi-Wan let Anakin worry, and pace, and mumble to himself. And when Anakin could bring himself to leave, and no sooner, Obi-Wan followed him off the planet. They didn’t talk for most of the flight, but sometime before they arrived on Coruscant, Anakin started talking. About his fears, about his doubts, about everything he was terrified of.

Would he be a good Chosen One? He’d been so scared for his mother. He couldn’t let go of the past. He couldn’t breathe when he thought of someone he loved, dying. He was emotional, and he was unsteady, and he had genuinely considered murdering the Sand People just to prove a point, just so they could never hurt his mother. What if he Fell? What if he was too tempted by the Dark Side, one day, and let it swallow him whole?

What if he didn’t save the galaxy? What if he just hurt people? What if the Sith won?

What if Anakin wasn’t good enough?

Obi-Wan listened the entire way, watched him pace as the auto-pilot kept them safe. When Anakin was done, Obi-Wan patted the space next to him on the floor. He held Anakin in his arms, stroked his hair and murmured gentle, soothing phrases. And he’d told Anakin something that had stuck with him since.

His passion, his emotion, was not a weakness, but a strength. And all strengths had the ability to make a person weak if they relied too closely on one. But Obi-Wan thought his passion was brilliant, thought his emotions kept things from ever seeming hopeless; and his attachment to the Force, and his emotions, had allowed him to sense his mother and save her life.

He was going to be a great Chosen One, because he already _was_ a great one. And a great person, a great Padawan, and a great man. He was a good person, and proof of that was his terror over his darker thoughts. A twisted man, Obi-Wan said, did not question the darkness in his mind. He welcomed it.

When he finished, Anakin realized he was crying. He wiped his eyes on the sleeve of his robes and rested his cheek on Obi-Wan’s shoulder.

“Thank you,” he said.

“Of course,” said Obi-Wan, still stroking his hair.

Not long after that, Anakin was knighted. And that night, Obi-Wan took Anakin to Tatooine, to celebrate, and they laughed and ate the flat cakes Anakin had always loved. There was no hurry to eat these cakes, for his mother had the supplies whenever she wanted. She was free, she was loved, and Anakin had never been happier.

* * *

Another moment, perhaps less important, but important all the same. Anakin needed a captain for his army, but he refused to be assigned one. He wanted to meet the man first and see how they connected. That led them to Kamino, where many eligible commanders had been lined up for Anakin, all of them waiting for orders.

Master Ti had outdone herself.

But Anakin didn’t find himself wandering the rows of over a hundred commanders. Instead, he drifted to a clone with marks on his armour, with tallies on the side of his head. Anakin paused not far from him.

“What do they stand for?” asked Anakin.

The clone lifted his head. The helmet hid his eyes. He’d been hunched over a droid, muttering about it.

“The language processor is broken,” said Anakin. He could sense it from here. “You need to reconnect the wires. She can’t understand you.”

“She?” echoed the clone, but it was a confirmation, not a question. Anakin nodded. “Huh. We have another identical unit that gets mad if we don’t call him a ‘him’. Didn’t know different droids could have different preferences.”

“It’s not that different from you,” said Anakin, before he could stop himself. The tension in the room rose a degree. “Droids aren’t people, of course. You’re people, not… machines. But,” Anakin took a breath. Obi-wan was better at this stuff, “many would assume you’re identical, because, by default, you _look_ identical. But you’re not.” The Force wobbled around this clone, calling to Anakin. There was a hue in the back of Anakin’s vision the same colour as the eyes he saw in the mirror. The trooper’s hue matched Anakin in more ways than one.

It wasn’t coincidence. They were meant to meet.

“You’re as different as anyone else,” said Anakin. “Why can’t people see that?”

The clone rose to his full height, still shorter than Anakin, and took off his helmet. Anakin was met with deep brown eyes and a shock of blond hair. The paler hue of his eyebrows betrayed that his hair was not dyed. Another difference Anakin loved, even if he didn’t understand it.

The clone regarded him for a moment, a quick flick of his gaze that had Anakin fighting a smile.

“Squads,” said the clone. “They’re lost squads. I’ve lost two.” He reached and touched the two marks on his helmet, still under one arm.

“My name’s Anakin,” said Anakin. “Anakin Skywalker. Do you have a name?”

The clone smiled. “Rex,” he said.

Anakin stuck out his hand. “Rex,” Anakin echoed, as Rex shook it. “How would you like to lead my army?”

The chaos that followed had a lot of moving parts that Anakin didn’t remember clearly. But he did remember two things. The first was Rex, grinning, as all his better-suited brothers were turned down for a bad-mouthing renegade with weird hair and a penchant for acting without thinking it through (something Obi-Wan would say he and Rex had in common, once they both got to know Rex a little better). The second was Obi-Wan, his hand on Anakin’s shoulder, his presence in the Force firm and stable, and his voice calm and measured as he argued Rex into a captain position, got him the extra training he needed, and backed Anakin’s decision without once questioning why Anakin had chosen Rex, of all the clones in the army.

Obi-Wan understood him. That was enough to make Anakin smile on even a bad day.

* * *

There was another time. A few months after he was knighted, the nightmares grew worse once again. The war was awful. His men were dying. Anakin had no idea what to do.

So, he did what he always did when he was terrified and trembling in the dark. He went to Obi-Wan’s room.

After Anakin was knighted, they’d been moved to different rooms. Single bedroom apartments rather than the two-bedroom set-up Anakin had lived in while he was a Padawan. He missed that apartment, but he wasn’t about to tell anyone that. Attachment, and all that.

They were only down the hall from each other, their handprints keyed into each other’s doors. Anakin splayed his fingers against the door lock and took a deep breath. It opened, he stumbled in. Everything was dark, but he knew this apartment as well as he knew his own. He moved through it, terror clinging to his bones and fear slithering down his back. His eyes prickled. Phantom images burned behind his eyes.

The bedroom door opened and Obi-Wan appeared.

“Anakin?” His voice was gentle. Anakin stared at Obi-Wan, his lower lip trembling. His eyes watered. Obi-Wan’s entire expression went soft and sweet. “Oh, dear one, come here.” He lifted his arms and Anakin hurried into them, hugging Obi-Wan tightly around the waist and burrowing his face into Obi-Wan’s shoulder.

Obi-Wan petted his hair with one hand and stroked his back with the other. He pressed a kiss to the side of Anakin’s head, his lips warm against the skin above his ear.

“There, there,” murmured Obi-Wan into his ear. “There, there. It’s all right. Did you have another vision? Or was it a nightmare?”

Anakin took a deep, shaky breath. Which was it? He hated falling back into the images, but he needed to, to know the truth.

Nightmare. The images weren’t sharp enough. The details didn’t stick beyond a handful. There was no emotional haze that scented the whole thing.

Nightmare, not a vision.

“Nightmare,” he whispered. “It’s a nightmare. Just a nightmare.” He shuddered against Obi-Wan’s body. “Not a vision.” He squeezed his eyes shut. Tears slipped down his cheeks. “Not a vision.”

“There, see? Now, come on,” Obi-Wan gently led him into the bedroom and sat them both down on the bed. “Whatever you saw, we can work with it. If you fear the past, I will help you meditate it away. If you fear the future, we will make plans to change it.” Obi-Wan brushed a hair from Anakin’s face and smiled at him. Soft, quiet. Comforting. Anakin leaned forward and rested their foreheads together. “All right?”

“All right,” breathed Anakin. He closed his eyes and let the soothing presence of Obi-Wan’s Force signature roll over him. They breathed, together, the air intermingling in the short distance between their lips.

Bit by bit, the anxiety and fear washed away, until it only buzzed, faintly, beneath his skin and through his veins.

“Better?” asked Obi-Wan, his voice barely above a murmur. Anakin nodded and hummed. He didn’t open his eyes, nor did he speak. “All right. Why don’t you get some rest, then?”

Anakin tensed. His eyes flew open. “Don’t make me leave,” he breathed. He gripped Obi-Wan’s shoulders with his fingers, the mechanic ones digging deeper than the flesh and blood. “Please, please don’t make me leave.”

Obi-Wan reached up and cupped the back of Anakin’s head with one hand. He stared into Anakin’s eyes as he spoke. “I wouldn’t dream of it, dear one. Come on now, you can stay with me.” Obi-Wan released him and pulled back the covers, which had been tossed haphazardly over the sheets. He’d been quick out of bed to come find Anakin, apparently.

“Aren’t I a little old to cuddle after a nightmare?” asked Anakin. He couldn’t help the embarrassed twinge to his voice, nor the way he flushed when Obi-Wan looked at him.

“Nonsense,” said Obi-Wan, settling under the blankets. “No one is too large to hold. You are my friend, Anakin, and you are hurting. Let me help.” He lifted an arm and Anakin crawled under it, settling himself onto the bed while Obi-Wan pulled the covers up over him.

Obi-Wan draped an arm over Anakin and put the other behind them, angling his hand to stroke Anakin’s hair. Anakin hummed and tilted his head to lean into Obi-Wan’s touch.

“Rest easy, Anakin, and know that I will not allow any harm to come to you while you sleep,” whispered Obi-Wan.

Anakin smiled as he drifted off, eyes fluttering shut without the weight of nightmares behind them.

* * *

Her name was Ahsoka Tano. Apparently, she was his new Padawan learner.

When Obi-Wan had told Anakin that he wanted a new Padawan learner, Anakin hadn’t been able to stop the hurt that had flowed freely through him. He was no longer Obi-Wan’s apprentice, but that didn’t mean he didn’t feel… _possessive_ of him. Obi-Wan was his partner, his friend, and his brother, when the word didn’t stir strange emotions in his gut that he never questioned, because he was a Jedi, and Jedi didn’t question when their bodies balked at a regular word. They just pushed it down.

Maybe fear of attachment.

But it wasn’t. And he knew that. He just hadn’t known, at the time, what it really meant.

So, he was jealous. He was embarrassed of his jealousy, but he was jealous. Obi-Wan was _his_. His friend, his partner, his mentor in so many things. And now Obi-Wan wanted to change what they had, change everything about their lives, for some _kid?_

Then she showed up, snarky and quick, just like he’d been, and she’d said she was supposed to be _his_ Padawan, and the campaign needed to end, so Anakin had pushed aside his feelings and set to work.

In the end, they sat together, he told her that she’d work as his Padawan, but not as Obi-Wan’s, and welcomed her aboard.

She’d run off to tell Obi-Wan, excitement obvious with her every step. Anakin watched her go, shaking his head, before turning back to watch the sunset.

He sighed, closing his eyes, and let the Force sweep over him like an old friend. His emotions mixed with the Force, drawing out of his body before slipping back in. He didn’t give his emotions up to the Force, like Obi-Wan, but allowed them to intermingle. He’d never been good at explaining how he did this. Obi-Wan didn’t understand. Not really.

Already, he could feel himself attaching to Ahsoka. She was young, and sweet, and full of spunk, just like he’d been. In fact, she was so similar to him at that age that Anakin had to wonder if Obi-Wan had picked her out, specifically. But for who? For himself, or for Anakin? He had no idea. Was this really a mix-up? Or had this been planned from the start?

He didn’t… mind, either way. He did, but not in the way he expected. If Ahsoka was his Padawan, then Obi-Wan was still _his_. Obi-Wan’s attention would be on Ahsoka, of course. He was her grandmaster, after all.

It wasn’t very Jedi-like, to think of Obi-wan as his. It wasn’t very Jedi-like, to crave the way Obi-Wan touched him – on the shoulder, on the back, on the head – and smiled at him, and paid attention to him. He didn’t crave Obi-Wan’s approval, not the way he had when he was young. He was fine with disappointing his old master, so long as he did what he thought was right.

But he always wanted to be near him. Always wanted to make him laugh. Always wanted to be there for him when he had a rough time. And he wanted Obi-Wan to want the same from him.

Ahsoka had been this terrifying unknown, a piece that could upset their balance. But meeting her, working with her, talking to her, it all changed that. He wanted Ahsoka to fit as his Padawan, just as he wanted to fit as Obi-Wan’s partner. But also _not_ in that way at all. There were differences. Differences that Anakin struggled to understand.

The tightness in his chest when Obi-Wan smiled. The way he lost his breath when Obi-Wan laughed. The fear that seized him when Obi-Wan was injured. It all meant something.

Anakin wasn’t stupid. He knew there was something there. But he couldn’t quite place _what._

With a quiet sigh, he opened his eyes. Maybe he needed to head back to the others. He wasn’t doing well sorting this out on his own.

But, as he turned, looking for Obi-Wan and his new Padawan, that “something” solidified into an answer, when his gaze found them beneath the sunset, with the men. They were laughing. Obi-Wan was _laughing_. The sunset golden and vibrant in his hair.

 _Oh,_ thought Anakin, staring at Obi-Wan, at the light, at the way he moved his hands. All the pieces slid into place. His throat was dry.

 _It’s you_ , his mind whispered to Obi-Wan across the space between them. _It’s always been you._

* * *

Obi-Wan was injured.

The realization ripped through Anakin before Obi-Wan’s starfighter even got back to the ship. He was standing, planning, while Obi-Wan and his pilots tried to clear the path for them. It had all been going well, then the lightning had torn through Anakin and sent his ears ringing and his mouth full of cotton.

The Force tugged at his clothes like an impatient child.

Obi-Wan was injured.

He bolted, sprinting for the bay before he could even fully comprehend what he was doing. Some of the men shouted, but the ones in blue parted as he appeared. They knew not to question. He did things like this.

Ahsoka, well, she followed, shouting all the way. Anakin barely heard her. All he could hear was the Force. It didn’t speak. It didn’t need to. The invisible string that connected him and Obi-Wan was pulled taut. Injured. Injured. Injured.

Was Obi-Wan okay?

He broke into the bay as the starfighter landed.

“Obi-Wan!” called Anakin, boots barely getting purchase as he ran. The Force propelled him forward, pushing him closer and closer.

Obi-Wan climbed out of the starfighter. Slow, too slow. He slid to the ground; one hand pressed into his side. His eyes were closed. His head was bowed.

“Obi-Wan!” Anakin skidded to a stop in front of Obi-Wan and knelt, taking Obi-Wan’s face in his hands. Anxiety pulsated around him, blurring the edges of Anakin’s vision and sending his heart into a fast, uneven rhythm. “Are you okay? What happened? Where are you injured?” His words were fast. He looked down where Obi-Wan’s hand was.

There were no issues with the starfighter. If there had been, he couldn’t have landed so easily. There was no smoke. There was nothing to say the starfighter was damaged. So how was Obi-Wan injured?

“Easy, dear one,” murmured Obi-Wan. He lifted his free hand and rested it upon Anakin’s cheek. His weary gaze met Anakin’s frantic one. “Take a few deep breaths. Your fear is colouring the world around us. Look.” He nodded, over Anakin’s shoulder. Anakin glanced and saw Ahsoka leaning heavily on a soldier, one hand on her head. Even from here, her dizziness was obvious.

He flushed and gnawed on the inside of his cheek. Obi-Wan stroked his cheek with his fingers, drawing his hand back across Anakin’s face until his fingers curled around the back of Anakin’s head, near the base of his skull. He tugged, pulling Anakin forward until their foreheads rested together.

“Breathe with me, Anakin.” Obi-Wan’s words brushed air against his lips. Anakin fought a shudder. He focused on the way the Force settled around Obi-Wan. On the way Obi-Wan breathed. Together, they inhaled, exhaled, settled their feelings into the Force. Having Obi-Wan next to him helped.

He’d never been any good at unguided meditation.

“There we are,” said Obi-Wan. Both men opened their eyes. Obi-Wan cracked a small, crooked smile at Anakin, his eyes twinkling. “I am injured, yes, but I’ll be all right. My systems were damaged, and they shocked me quite badly. Nothing a dip in bacta and a good night’s rest won’t fix.”

Anakin nodded, still holding Obi-Wan’s face in his hands. His gaze darted around Obi-Wan’s expression, trying to find cracks within it. He found none.

“Okay,” he said. He pressed his forehead tight to Obi-Wan’s and took a deep, shuddering breath, his eyes fluttering shut for but a moment. When they opened, Obi-Wan was watching him with a furrowed brow and a question in his blue eyes. Anakin didn’t answer. “Come on, I’ll be help you to the med bay.”

“We have work to do,” said Obi-Wan. He yelped as Anakin stood and swept Obi-Wan into his arms. Obi-Wan’s arms flung around Anakin’s neck for balance. He stared at Anakin with wide eyes. “Anakin! I am not invalid. I can walk!”

“You’re going to rest and I’m going to kick some Separatist _ass_ ,” said Anakin. He flashed a teasing smile at Obi-Wan. “If you recover quick enough, maybe I’ll let you help me clean up.”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes but settled in Anakin’s arms as Anakin headed for the med bay. He couldn’t help the warmth that spread through him as they walked, all of it originating where Obi-Wan touched him – which was a lot of places.

He hoped things never changed. Or, if they did, he hoped they changed for the better. But that was asking too much from a Jedi who cared so much about the code. Obi-Wan cared for him as much as he could and still be the perfect Jedi.

Anakin could live with that.

* * *

Arguments in the Jedi Temple were never loud, and they were oft behind closed doors. It was only through chance that Anakin stumbled across the argument. Or maybe it was the will of the Force. It had led him to stranger places.

Obi-Wan was arguing with _Mace Windu_ ; the two of them were tucked into a dead-end hallway, not far from the archives. It was a quiet part of the Temple, and their voices carried despite their low volume. Anakin masked himself in the Force as best he could and watched, hidden, from a distance. The acoustics allowed him to hear without being seen.

Useful.

“You indulge him far too much,” said Master Windu, his tone sharp. “He’s too emotional, too prone to impulse.”

“I assure you, Master Windu, I indulge him precisely the right amount.” Obi-Wan folded his arms across his chest and stared up at Mace. His expression gave away nothing, but Anakin was too far away to make out the specifics of it. Too far to see the light in his eyes or a twitch in his mouth, if there was any.

Mace shifted, slightly, where he stood. His shoulders moved back.

He hadn’t been expecting that response. Anakin grinned. _Good._ He liked when Obi-Wan surprised the other Jedi Masters.

“This war is hard, Mace,” said Obi-Wan. “Anakin’s emotions and impulse have served him well. He is unique and that uniqueness has saved many lives – yours included, I might add. If not for Anakin’s relationship with Artoo, I doubt you’d be alive, today.”

Anakin smiled. It had taken so long to convince Obi-Wan that Artoo had feelings, that despite being “just an R2 unit”, he was part of Anakin’s family. Hearing that confirmation, especially when Obi-Wan didn’t know he was listening, spread a comfortable warmth in his chest.

Mace spoke. “This war has compromised the Jedi and our code. This is no clearer than in Skywalker. You were supposed to train the Chosen One to be a good Jedi, Master Kenobi. I, and several others, have yet to see the fruition of this training. As far as we’re considered, Skywalker is still the same, unruly child that your late master dragged into our chambers, so many years ago.”

Anakin bristled. He wanted to storm out and snarl at Mace for bad-mouthing Obi-Wan, but that would only prove him right, and give away that Anakin had been spying.

He didn’t have to.

“Have you considered,” said Obi-Wan, his voice warm but his face cold, “that there is more to being a good Jedi than following our outdated code? The code has served us well for many years, Mace, but Anakin proves that there are many ways to be a Jedi.”

“You can’t be serious. His emotions are a weakness. His anger will lead to the Dark Side if he cannot be tempered,” said Mace.

Anakin ground his teeth, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. Not when Obi-Wan was defending him. Not when everything he said was battling the doubts Anakin had had about himself for so long.

“Anakin Skywalker is one of the purest, kindest souls I have ever met.” Obi-Wan’s voice was _hard._ Anakin’s eyes went wide as Obi-Wan took a step toward Mace, lifting his chin to glare at the man. “His nightmares speak of his compassion; his fears speak of his connections. Yes, that is _attachment,_ but his attachment makes him stronger. He saved his mother’s life, because of that attachment. He has saved many lives, from his compassion and his drive.”

“And yet, you speak of his strength with the living. What of the dead, Obi-Wan? What happens when someone dies?” Mace shook his head. “He will Fall. You know he will.”

Anakin felt like he’d been punched. If his mother had died, would he have Fallen? If Ahsoka? Or Rex? Or Padmé? Or Obi-Wan? Force, what would he do if Obi-Wan died? He couldn’t _imagine_ turning to the Dark Side. The anger, the hatred, it lingered there, but Obi-Wan wouldn’t have wanted that. No one would have.

If anything, he’d hang up his robes and go back to his mother, until he understood what he wanted to do in a galaxy without Obi-Wan.

Yet, if Obi-Wan was killed…

That was different.

Anakin would slaughter the ones who did it. Without hesitation. And he would not rest until they were dead.

That wasn’t anger.

That was justice.

“I know no such thing,” said Obi-Wan, sounding slightly breathless. Could he feel the emotions that roiled and shouted within Anakin’s mind and chest? “Anakin will not Fall, Mace. He is better than that. If someone dies, I will help him through it. And if I die, then Ahsoka, and his soldiers, and his mother, can help him through it. He has support. He always will.”

“A Jedi shouldn’t need support,” said Mace. “Unless it is the Force. That is the way of the Jedi, and that is how any proper Jedi should act.”

“Perhaps that’s the problem, Mace. Perhaps there are things more important in this galaxy than being a ‘proper’ Jedi,” said Obi-Wan. He took a step back. “We are so focused on these outdated notions of what a Jedi _shouldn’t_ be, that we are blind to the changes happening around us, and the possibilities of what the Jedi _could_ be.” He moved around Mace, walking away from him.

“We were wrong about you and Skywalker,” said Mace. Obi-Wan paused, head cocked to one side.

“Oh?” asked Obi-Wan, echoing Anakin’s thoughts.

“You didn’t change him. He changed you,” said Mace. Anakin flinched.

Obi-Wan snorted. “Thank the Force for that, I was insufferable before he got a hold of me.” With that, he walked away, heading back to his apartment.

Anakin lingered in his hiding spot for a minute, a hand to his heart and a tremulous smile on his face. His cheeks burned and so did his chest.

_Obi-Wan…_

He couldn’t articulate anything else.

Just… _Obi-Wan._

* * *

Anakin’s birthday was never going to be a big affair. They were in the midst of a war, after all. But he’d hoped for something, anything. A little acknowledgement. Maybe a hug. Maybe a song.

What he got was much better.

He, Obi-Wan, Ahsoka, and their men were in the midst of a smaller campaign. It was the tail-end of the campaign. Mostly, it was just clean-up work from now until the treaties were designed and signed, placing the people of the planet under Republic protection.

Frankly, Anakin was damn proud of them. This campaign should have been a lot longer, but with some smart thinking, some ingenuity, and some appealing to the people of the planet to help – something Anakin was surprisingly good at, once he let his emotions do the talking instead of his training – the campaign had ended far ahead of what they’d all expected. The Jedi Council had seemed surprised when they’d called, yesterday, to let them know the planet would be joining the Republic by the end of the week.

Anakin always took far too much pleasure in shocking the Council with whatever he was up to that week. If Mace wasn’t bald, Anakin liked to think he’d have given him a head of grey hair.

Obi-Wan called him far too egotistic to be a proper Jedi. Anakin told him that being a proper Jedi was overrated. Obi-Wan had smiled and hugged him; Anakin had pretended he didn’t know why.

So, suffice to say, Anakin’s expectations for his birthday were low, but he was happy with what he had. His life was wonderful; the war was going well; and he was surrounded by people who cared for him and didn’t mind that he cared too much about them.

Hell, the only thing that would make this day _perfect_ would be if Obi-Wan up and kissed him. Now _that_ would change his expectations for birthdays. Forever.

That morning, Anakin awoke and rolled out of his bed in the small room he, Obi-Wan, and Ahsoka were staying in. They were gone, which made Anakin frown. He’d expected Obi-Wan to be gone, but Ahsoka always slept later than Anakin. Where was she?

The hallway didn’t provide any answers. It was dawn, maybe a little passed. The mountains mucked with the horizon and the timing of sunrise. The two bays they’d turned into barracks were mostly empty, as well. The men who were in waved, calling happy birthday to him as he went.

Where was Obi-Wan?

He didn’t pick up when Anakin commed him. Anakin frowned. He always picked up. Was something wrong? Didn’t Obi-Wan remember what day it was? Birthdays weren’t supposed to be a huge ordeal, in the Jedi, because it was a form of attachment, but he and Obi-Wan had always celebrated their birthdays together. They’d celebrated Ahsoka’s, as well, once she joined their little family.

_Family._

The word always made Anakin smile. He wanted to introduce Ahsoka to his mother, once they had time. She’d been his Padawan too long not to know his mother. Though, he wondered what she’d make of that, considering she hadn’t grown up knowing her family, or any Jedi’s family. That wasn’t how things _worked_ in their world.

The Council made a point to comment on that whenever Anakin expressed interest in going to see his mother. Or rather, a few members of them did. Not all of them. Master Ti and Master Plo seemed content with Anakin’s way of doing things. Or, they didn’t protest, at least.

Anakin’s thoughts let his feet wander, and he found himself standing outside the doors into the makeshift mess. He shrugged. Might as well get breakfast while he was looking. Maybe if he got a cup of caf, he could get Obi-Wan’s attention. The man could smell it from leagues away.

As he pushed open the door, the lights clicked on.

“Surprise!” came the shouts in front of him. Anakin jumped, hand flitting to his lightsaber on his waist. He stopped when he realized who it was. The members of the 501st and 212th, Ahsoka, and, front and centre, _Obi-Wan,_ who was beaming at him with the force of a thousand brilliant suns.

“I…” Anakin couldn’t find the words. “Um…”

“Happy birthday, Skyguy!” said Ahsoka. She leapt over Obi-Wan’s shoulders, who only laughed in response, and ran at Anakin, hugging him tightly around the waist. She grinned up at him, her sharp teeth making the grin seem wider. “We made you a surprise party.”

Anakin flushed. “Thanks, Snips,” he said, voice soft. He patted the space atop her head, between her montrals. “I appreciate it.”

“Oh, it wasn’t me,” said Ahsoka, stepping back to wave with one hand. “I mean, it was _my_ idea, but Master Kenobi set it all up. He said you’d love it!” She grinned. “Do you love it?”

Anakin lifted his head and met Obi-Wan’s gaze over Ahsoka’s head. He smiled. Obi-Wan smiled back, gentle and warm, paler than it had been when Anakin had first walked into the room, but more intimate. Like a secret shared between just the two of them.

“I do,” he said, not breaking Obi-Wan’s gaze. “I love it.”

The party was great. There was food, there was cake – Obi-Wan had somehow found the time to bake, between everything else. The clones regaled him with some ridiculous folk style songs about his prowess on the battlefield. Ahsoka had made him a necklace that was similar to her Padawan braid. He’d put it on immediately. Even Padmé called to wish him a happy birthday, her hologram smiling and one hand lifted so they could rest their hands together, even if neither could feel it.

“You do well,” she said. “I’m glad to be your friend.”

Anakin chuckled. “I never thought I’d be happy to call a politician one of my best friends.”

She smiled and watched him with narrowed eyes. “You know,” she said. “You should tell him.”

“Maybe,” he said.

“Ani.”

“I know,” he said, voice soft. “Let me have today, okay?”

“Okay,” she agreed.

They talked for some time after that, before Padmé had to leave for her work. After that, the party wound down, having only been for the morning while everything else was put on hold. Around lunch, everything was put away, soldiers got back to work, and everything went back to normal.

Everything except Anakin. He found himself in his room, tinkering with his mechno-arm. He wasn’t needed for most of the diplomacy stuff, and Anakin had been told to take it easy, as it was his birthday. As much as he wanted the off time, being alone wasn’t his idea of ‘taking it easy’. He’d rather spend his time with Ahsoka, who was running around with the men, or Rex, who was busy ferrying diplomats from the capital to the camp and back, or Obi-Wan, who was talking to the diplomats.

Anakin hated diplomacy.

He would have given a _lot_ to spend his birthday doing diplomacy with Obi-Wan.

A knock at the door. Anakin started, having been so lost in his tinkering that he hadn’t felt anyone approaching.

“Uh, come in?” It was probably Rex, or another of the men. They always knocked.

Instead, as the door opened, Anakin saw Obi-Wan. He leaned in the doorway, a small smile on his face, and a twinkle in his eye like he’d known Anakin would be confused at seeing him. And Anakin was. He couldn’t hide his surprise. His mouth fell open and his eyes widened, hand going slack where he’d been tinkering.

“Hello, dear one. May I come in?” asked Obi-Wan, smiling.

Anakin nodded, his mouth closing and brow furrowing. Obi-Wan shut the door and took a seat next to Anakin, on Anakin’s bed. Their shoulders brushed – Anakin’s right and Obi-Wan’s left. Obi-Wan was one of the few who didn’t shrink back from Anakin’s right when his glove was off. So many saw the mechno arm and flinched. Even when the glove was back, so many stayed on his left side. It was as if… as if the fact that he lacked a flesh and blood limb meant he was somehow less human. As if he could _spread_ a lack of humanity to the people around him.

Or maybe it was just the idea that Jedi were emotionless, unfeeling machines. Wise beyond their years. Anakin didn’t know.

“What are you doing here?” asked Anakin. “Don’t you have work to do?”

Obi-Wan hummed. “There aren’t any diplomats for a bit. I thought I’d take some time off and come see you.” He looked at Anakin. “How has your day been?” asked Obi-Wan, his voice low and his gaze gentle. “I hope your birthday was adequate. We only had so much time to prepare.”

Anakin leaned into Obi-Wan’s side and closed his eyes against the slew of emotions and turbulent thoughts that roared through his mind. All he could think of was Obi-Wan. The way he went out of his way to help Anakin with his very un-Jedi-like feelings. The way he set up celebrations and holidays, even when the Jedi didn’t believe in celebrating birthdays or most other holidays.

How he’d argued with a _member of the Council_ over Anakin. How he comforted Anakin, tended to Anakin, _cared_ for Anakin in ways that didn’t make _sense._

He hadn’t been Obi-Wan’s Padawan in years. But what they were now… Anakin was starting to wonder, thinking about the party, the argument he’d overheard, the gentle ways in which Obi-Wan touched him, what exactly they _were._

He was being ridiculous. Padmé’s words had gotten to him.

“It’s… I liked it, Obi-Wan. Thank you,” said Anakin. “It couldn’t have been easy to bake a cake in all this.” He rested his head on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. Despite his thoughts, he couldn’t help but crave physical contact. If he could bodily attach himself to someone at all times, he would. Preferably Obi-Wan. Touch was something he craved more than anything else. More than food, or water, or rest, or his own lightsaber.

Just. Obi-Wan. And touch.

And Obi-Wan’s touch.

“Mm. I had to call in a few favours with the men to get someone to do a supply run for me, but it wasn’t hard,” said Obi-Wan. He stroked his fingers through Anakin’s hair and pressed a kiss to the crown of his head. “You’re worth it, dearest. You always have been.”

Anakin stilled. The touch, the words, the kiss.

The pet names.

Now that he was thinking about all of this, it felt as though the pieces were coming together. As though he was seeing that which he’d been blind to for so long. How long had Obi-Wan called him these things? How long had Obi-Wan sought out Anakin as often as Anakin sought him out?

This wasn’t the behaviour of friends, or of an old master and apprentice, or of brothers. No, this behaviour, what Obi-Wan was doing, reminded Anakin of the romance holos he’d watched with Padmé, so many times. The love interests were always this tender to their lover, long before they _became_ lovers.

“Anakin?” Obi-Wan’s voice was quiet. “Are you all right? You’ve gone very still.” He leaned away from Anakin and slid one hand to cup his cheek. “Have I done something wrong?”

Anakin lifted his head and his gaze, staring into Obi-Wan’s eyes. Obi-Wan furrowed his brow at him, his thumb rubbing back and forth against Anakin’s cheek.

“Obi-Wan?”

“Yes, dear one?”

“Why do you call me that?” asked Anakin. He leaned away, breaking the contact between them. His face felt cold without Obi-Wan’s hand. He ignored it. He wanted answers. And if he was right… well, he’d get those touches much more. Assuming it went well.

The Force brushed against him, a gentle touch that comforted and soothed; it encouraged him to keep going.

“Call you what?” asked Obi-Wan, tilting his head. Was he playing stupid, or did he not realize? Obi-Wan was far from dense. He _had_ to be doing this on purpose.

“Dear,” said Anakin. “And dear one, and dearest, and whatever other variations I can’t remember. You don’t call anyone else that.”

“Why would I?” asked Obi-Wan. “Those are names I call you.”

“Obi-Wan.” Anakin couldn’t get the frustration out of his voice. “I—you’re not dense. You _have_ to be doing this on purpose.” Anakin gesticulated with his hands, knocking the panel on his arm shut as he went. “Do you… do you not realize how you _sound?_ ” His voice cracked. He stared at Obi-Wan with wide eyes and a trembling lower lip.

_Do you not know what you do to me?_

“I know precisely how I sound, dear heart,” said Obi-Wan. He moved closer to Anakin, reaching up to tangle their fingers together, between them. “I wouldn’t call you such things if I did not.”

Anakin blinked. What?

“Anakin.” Obi-Wan’s voice was amused, a smile spreading across his face and a twinkle in his eye. He took one of his hands from Anakin’s and lifted it, brushing Anakin’s cheek with his fingers, before letting them slide to the back of Anakin’s head. Gentle pressure urged Anakin’s head closer to Obi-Wan’s, and he shifted forward so he didn’t have to lean so far, his gaze darting from Obi-Wan’s face to their joined hands.

Anakin swallowed. “Yeah?”

“I’m not a dense man, Anakin. I am merely… cautious. I wanted to be certain before I said anything.” Obi-Wan’s thumb soothed across Anakin’s cheek as he spoke. “I believe I have my answer, now.”

Anakin sucked in a sharp breath. “You…” He stared at Obi-Wan with wide eyes. “You…”

“Yes,” said Obi-Wan, nodding. His smile stayed as he spoke. “It’s you, Anakin. When I first saw you getting along with Ahsoka, laughing with her after our first mission, together, I knew.”

Anakin held his breath. Obi-Wan had figured it out the same day he had. That meant they’d lost _so much time._

But more than that, his mind screamed that he needed to move, to speak, so as to not lose this. Obi-Wan sat with him, holding him, telling him the depths of his heart, and Anakin was frozen in place, mouth open, eyes wide. Obi-Wan wasn’t a perfect Jedi, he’d said as much to Mace. But to hear Obi-Wan so blatantly break the largest part of the code. The part that said they weren’t supposed to get attached…

It left him stunned. There was no other word for it.

“Obi-Wan…” Anakin couldn’t find anything else to say.

“Yes?” asked Obi-Wan, a tease to his voice. “Come now, has my confession of love truly left you speechless? My, I’ll have to keep that in mind for the future.”

_Love._

Anakin’s eyes went wide a split second before Obi-Wan’s did, as if he’d realized he hadn’t said the word before that moment. Anakin couldn’t help but grin. His body unfroze and he launched himself across the bed at Obi-Wan, throwing his arms around him. They fell backward, until Obi-Wan was on his back and Anakin was sprawled atop him, his hands on either side of Obi-Wan’s head, to prop himself up so he could grin down at Obi-Wan.

“Anakin?” Obi-Wan’s voice was a breath, barely there.

“I love you,” said Anakin, his own voice choked. He lowered himself so their noses and foreheads touched. “I love you _so much_ ,” he croaked, tears prickling his eyes. “I never thought I’d have you.”

“Oh, Ani.” A whisper. Obi-Wan lifted his hands and brushed away Anakin’s tears. “You’ve had me for a while. All you had to do was ask. I’ve been yours since the day you met Ahsoka, perhaps a little longer.”

Anakin swallowed. “The code.” He hated to bring it up. But he _had_ to.

“As I told Mace,” said Obi-Wan, a hint of his usual dryness slipping back into his tone. “The code is hardly a good measure of a Jedi’s worth. Though, you heard me say that to him, didn’t you?”

Anakin’s breath caught. “You knew I was there? How?”

Obi-Wan smiled. “Anakin, there is nothing you could do to hide yourself from me. I know you by your breath, by the motion of your body, by the way the very Force shifts when you are near. There is not a power in this galaxy that could take that from me.” He brushed a few more tears from Anakin’s cheek, but they were slowing now, overtaken by breathless, silent laughter and a grin Anakin couldn’t stop. “I will _always_ be able to find you.”

“I love you,” whispered Anakin.

Obi-Wan sighed, as if the very words could fill his lungs. And maybe they could. They were filling Anakin’s.

“I love you, too, my dear Ani,” said Obi-Wan. “Happy birthday.”

Anakin grinned and closed the distance, finally able to unfreeze himself from his uncertainties. As their lips met, and his grin fell to a smile he could kiss through, the world around them dimmed and flared, awareness changing. The room was gone, leaving, instead, the warmth of Obi-Wan’s lips, the way his body pressed up into Anakin’s, the soft scratch of his beard against Anakin’s bare face. The hand that tangled in his curls while the other slid down his back, gripping his robes.

Anakin dropped down to one elbow, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. He let the other hand slide between them, before coming up to brush Obi-Wan’s face before tangling in his hair. Obi-Wan’s mouth shifted with his, a flick of his tongue parting Anakin’s lips to deepen in further.

They laid like that, trading wet, open-mouthed kisses until they pulled back, flushed and panting, their faces twin images of red.

“Best birthday ever,” murmured Anakin, closing his eyes as he rested their foreheads together. Obi-Wan let out a chuckle and patted Anakin’s head with the hand still tangled in his hair.

“Well, I’ll just have to try and outdo myself next year, won’t I?” asked Obi-Wan.

Anakin opened his eyes and grinned at him. “I’m looking forward to it.”

There were many moments in his life where Anakin could say he was in love with Obi-Wan Kenobi, where he had realized his emotions ran deeper than he thought. But none of them mattered. This moment, when he found out that Obi-Wan felt the same, shone so brightly that the rest paled in comparison.

And there would be a thousand moments after that glowed just as brightly.

Of that, he was certain.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are greatly appreciated! Especially in such hard times. Thank you so much for taking the time to read.


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